


The Care and Keeping of an Idol

by mnemosyne23



Category: Arashi RPF, Japanese Actor RPF
Genre: Arashi - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Japanese Idols, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 21:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1200667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnemosyne23/pseuds/mnemosyne23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ups and downs of dating an idol, in the experience of one Rebecca "Becky" Vaughan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Care and Keeping of an Idol

**Author's Note:**

> My 2012 je_whiteday submission, for novemberbaby

**HINT #1: Prior to becoming romantically involved with an idol, make sure you are familiar and comfortable with the idol’s personal foibles. You don't want to be taken by surprise that your idol likes to cut his toenails at the kitchen table! Remember, public image and private life are not always the same.**

**Except when they are.**

* * *

It started with a cupcake.

"Aya-chan, do you know who this is from?" Becky asked as she flounced to her sofa and plunked herself down. 

"Who what is from? You know, you could help me clean up. This was _your_ birthday party, after all." 

"My birthday party, thrown for me by my bestest friend, Ueto Aya-chan," Becky trilled sweetly, batting her eyelashes. "And Ueto Aya-chan wouldn't make her bestest friend clean up the mess of her own surprise birthday party, ne?"

Aya stuck her tongue out at her friend and went back to stuffing paper plates and Solo cups into a garbage bag. "Spoiled brat."

"I love you, too, Aya-chan." Becky giggled and held up a small square box. "Anyway, this is what I was asking you about. I thought I'd opened everybody's gifts, but I found this one over on the gift table. There's no card. Do you know whose it is?"

Aya flopped down on the couch beside her and took the little box from Becky's hand. "It doesn't look familiar," she said, lifting the box to look at the bottom. "No ID underneath either." She glanced at the gift tag that was nestled under the jazzy pink and white bow that topped the box. "'To Becky,'" she read aloud. "'Happy Birthday.' Well, that's about as vague as you can get." She set the little box back on Becky's upturned palm. "Open it."

It seemed a shame to ruin the pretty hand-tied bow that secured the lid to the box. Whoever had tied it had clearly made an effort to arrange the curled ribbons in a cascade that tumbled down the sides of the box like a cotton candy waterfall of pink and white. Becky wasn't usually concerned with preserving wrapping paper and ribbon, preferring to tear into her presents and worry about the clean up later. But she'd make exceptions now and then when a gift was wrapped in a particularly pretty paper, or when someone had chosen a particularly pretty bow. On those occasions she might take a scrap of the paper to tuck into her photo album with pictures from the party, or she might add the bow to her little box of favorite glittery keepsakes (her father liked to call her a magpie). This particular bow wasn't as flashy as most of her favorites, but the care with which it had been tied was enough to make her want to take special care to preserve it.

"Oh for heaven's sake," Aya sighed. "Would you just hurry up and open it?"

Becky gave her an affronted look. "This is a special gift from a secret admirer," she said primly. "It requires special handling."

"How do you know it's from a secret admirer?"

"There's no name on it, ne? So clearly the person is trying to keep their identity secret."

"Doesn't mean it's from an admirer. The gift-giver might just be really stupid and forgot to include their name."

"Hmph. Cynical." Becky carefully plucked at the ribbons that wrapped around the box until she'd loosened them enough to be able to slide them away without ruining the bow, which she set aside where it wouldn't get crushed. "Here goes," she murmured and lifted away the lid.

" _Kawaiiii_ ," Aya cooed as she peered into the box. 

Nestled inside the box was a cupcake. It was frosted with pale blue icing decorated with a field of gold and green sunflowers. A carefully lettered inscription had been piped in bright pink frosting across the blue sky above the flowers.

Becky read it. 

Then read it again.

Then she carefully re-covered the box.

Then she reached into her pocket and fished out her cellphone. 

"Who're you calling?" Aya asked, taking the box from her and opening it again to admire the cupcake inside.

"My secret admirer," Becky said, slumping back against the sofa cushions as she held the phone to her ear.

"Eh? You know who it is?"

"Oh yes."

"How do you know?"

Becky held up a hand to silence her friend as the phone call connected. 

" _Moshi moshi?_ " 

"Aiba Masaki, I'm going to kill you."

" _Eh?!_ " 

"Aiba-san?" Aya asked, confused.

"You idiot!" Becky snapped into the phone. "You go through all the effort of making me a birthday cupcake, frosting it and wrapping it so prettily, for the sole purpose of confessing to me-"

"Is _that_ what this is?" Aya gasped. 

Becky waved her hand distractedly in acknowledgment and continued haranguing the man on the other end of the line. "-I repeat, the SOLE purpose of confessing to me, and you _spelled it wrong?_ "

" _Ehhh?_ " 

"You... you... you non-English speaking moron! You finally go to the effort of actually confessing, in a way that could be as mushy and romantic as the best dorama storyline, and you SPELLED. IT. WRONG." 

" _Are you sure-?_ "

"YES!" She snatched the box from Aya. "It's supposed to say, _'Becky, I like you_ ,' right?"

" _It doesn't say that?_ "

"No! _Baka_!"

" _What did I write then?_ " He sounded _so_ confused.

Becky handed the box back to Aya and facepalmed dramatically. "You wrote, _'Becky, I LICK you.'_ Do you hear me? _'Becky, I lick you.'_ That's what you wrote. You... you adorable, sentimental, birdbrained idiot. THAT IS NOT ROMANTIC."

" _But Nino said-_ "

"Don't even finish that sentence!" Becky took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Okay, here's what you're going to do. You're going to take a cab to my apartment. You will bring a cake. You will look me in the eye and you will confess. I will kiss you until your knees go weak. And _then_ we are going to talk about why we don't let Nino proofread our love confessions. _Wakarimasu?_ "

" _Hai, Becky-chan._ "

"Good. Oh, and Aiba-kun?" 

" _Ne?_ " 

Becky took a deep, cleansing breath, then let her lips quirk into a fond smile. "I lick you, too."

* * *

**HINT #2: Try to keep work and private life separate. If you have a pre-existing working relationship, save the "shop talk" for the office. Bringing work home can be distracting for you and your idol and may result in diminished productivity. This could be good or bad, depending on your point of view.**

* * *

"We could ask Shimura-san to let us do a special corner together," Aiba suggested a couple of months later, as he and Becky shared an enormous ice cream sundae on his couch in front of a rerun of _Deka Wanko._ "Something with cute baby animals."

"You already do a cute baby animal segment with Yamase-san," Becky remarked, letting him feed her one of the four maraschino cherries they'd piled on top of the sundae. "And me and Daigo-san already do lots of visits with puppies and kittens. We need something more original. Oh, and you have whipped cream on your nose." 

"Eh?" Aiba crossed his eyes to try and see the tip of his nose. "No I don't."

Becky reached up to tap his nose with her spoon and leave a large dollop of whipped cream in its wake. "Now you do," she grinned.

"Hey!" He laughed, his familiar breathy giggle doing things to Becky's insides that were probably illegal in certain areas of the world. 

She grinned and pushed up on her knees to lick the whipped cream away. "There," she said, sitting back before he could respond and patting his chest. "All clean."

"Bebe-chaaaaan," Aiba whined. "You _know_ how much I love it when you kiss my nose."

"I didn't kiss your nose. I licked your nose."

"Same thing."

"Weirdo."

He gave her a magnificent pout. "Bebeeeeee." 

Aiba's ability to pout was something that had to be seen to be believed. It combined the dewy-eyed innocence of a newborn fawn with the disconsolate mewing of an abandoned kitten, wrapped it up in a cuddly package that would make a fluffy bunny green with envy, and dropped itself on the doorstep of the witness's heart like a puppy wearing a collar inscribed with the words, _My name is Mr. Snuggles. Let me be your snugglemuffin._

Becky narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh, that's low."

"What is, Bebe?" 

"The Pout. You know I can't resist the Pout."

"I'm not pouting," he pouted.

"Yes you are."

"Am not." Pout.

"There! You did it again! You're still doing it!"

"You kissed my nose and then didn't let me kiss you back. It's not fair." Pouting pouty face of poutiness.

"If I let you kiss me we won't stop, and then we'll never make a decision on what to ask for as a regular segment on _Tensai_." The Pout was getting to her. Already she could feel her insides wobbling as the urge to reach out and pull Aiba into a comforting embrace became steadily more powerful. 

She had to stay strong. As long as he didn't break out the Wibble Face she had a chance.

"But all I want is one teeny little kiss, Bebe-chan. A teeny, tiny, itty-bitty kiss." 

He wibbled.

Becky groaned. "You are SO not fair," she complained, setting the forgotten sundae on Aiba's coffee table and crawling into his lap. 

"I'm sorry?" he offered in apology, his pout already replaced by a knowing, shining smile that made Becky's belly smolder like banked coals. She sighed softly as his hands settled on her waist, tugging her closer.

"No you're not." She draped her arms around his neck, teasing his silky hair with her fingertips as she gazed into his eyes. "You just wanted to get me in your lap so you can kiss me and I can't get away." Her fingers drew a heart against the nape of his neck as she smiled. "You and your guerilla tactics."

His eyes sparkled. "OOH! That can be our segment! We’ll call it ‘Gorilla Tactics,’ but spelled like ‘gorilla,’ not ‘guerilla.’ We can blindfold celebrities and then make them guess what adorable baby animal we’re going to let them play with! It’s perfect! And we can- MMF!"

Becky silenced him with a kiss. When Aiba got to babbling it was next to impossible to get him to stop without direct, physical intervention. "Was that a sufficiently teeny, tiny, itty-bitty kiss?" she murmured against his lips when they broke for air.

"I think it might need a little more bitty," Aiba said, his eyes crinkling with a smile. "Maybe even some more itty."

"Picky."

"I’m a connoisseur of kisses."

"Connoisseur, eh? Did you get that from _Bartender_?"

"I’ll tell you for another kiss."

"Greedy, too," she giggled, even as she moved to comply.

* * *

**HINT #3: Does your idol have a pet? If yes, then make sure you make friends with it. Your idol may think you're the bee's knees, but if the resident Shi Tzu doesn't like you, then you've got a long road ahead of you.**

* * *

_Zzzzzzuuuummmm_.

Becky groaned and swatted at the humming noise near her shoulder, then rolled onto her stomach and tried to go back to sleep.

_Zzzzzzuuuummmmm_ , BUMP.

"Nnf. Go ‘way," she muttered, jutting out her elbow to push away the irritating object that was pressing against her bicep.

_Zzzzzzuuuuummm,_ BUMP. BUMP. BUMP.

Becky growled and reached for the man asleep in the futon beside her. "Maaaaa-chan," she whined, shaking his shoulder. "It’s doing it again."

"Hmm?" He yawned and rolled over, slinging an arm around her waist. "Wha’?"

_Zzzzzzzzzuuuummmm_ , BUMP BUMP BUMP.

"Your Roomba is trying to vacuum me again," Becky complained, tucking herself under Aiba’s chin and curling up against his chest.

"He likes you." Aiba rubbed her back.

"Make it stoooop. I wuz havin’ a good dream an’ it woke me up."

"Gomen." He kissed her forehead and fixed his sleepy gaze on the round form of his robotic vacuum as it made a leisurely sweep across the shiny hardwood of his bedroom floor. "Roomba, go home. Leave Bebe ‘lone." He patted the floor until he could lay his hand on the remote to send the little vacuum on its way back to its home base.

"I swear you set that thing’s timer on purpose," Becky mumbled against his collar bone as the Roomba trundled out of the room

Aiba snuggled them both deeper into the futon. "Do not. He just likes you and wants you to like him, too."

"Well if he thinks waking me up in the middle of the night is the way to get on my good side, he’s not too bright." She paused, and then huffed, "What am I saying? _IT_ is a vacuum. It’s not alive just because you glued some kitty ears and a pink felt tongue on it."

"Shhh, you’ll hurt his feelings." Aiba patted her hair. "Roomba-kun is very sensitive."

"You are so weird."

"I saw you leaving a dust bunny in front of him at dinnertime the other night, Becky-chan," Aiba observed, hiding his smile in her hair.

Becky's cheeks flamed. "Shut up," she mumbled. "I couldn’t just let it go _hungry_."

* * *

**HINT #4: Idols are very valuable, so make sure to guard yours with due diligence. If you're not careful, someone may steal your idol right out from under your nose.**

* * *

Becky stared at the photos as an icy fist tightened around her throat. "What are these?" she asked. Her tongue felt like sandpaper.

The question was rhetorical. It was all too obvious what was spread across the top of her manager's desk. Dozens of glossy photos, some black and white, others color, all of them showing her with Aiba. Some of them were innocuous enough: on the set of _Tensai_ , or backstage at _Music Station_. But others were more damning: together at Tokyo Disney Sea; eating _tagoyaki_ in the park; having dinner at the Aiba family restaurant. Worst of all were the pictures of her entering Aiba's apartment building, time-stamped in the evening, coupled with the pictures of her leaving his apartment building, time-stamped the next morning. 

For multiple days. 

Across multiple months. 

"They came in the mail this morning. Kitagawa-san has received copies, too." Her manager sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Becky-san, I thought you were more discreet than this. How could you be so careless?"

Becky was barely listening. Her fingers brushed over the photos, moving them around like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Every image was matched in her brain with a perfect, pristine memory. 

The _tagoyaki_ had been perfect little spheres, because Aiba said lopsided _tagoyaki_ didn't taste as good. They'd eaten them at a picnic table under the cherry blossoms. 

The night Becky officially met Aiba's parents, his mother had taken so many pictures of them together that Aiba had spent half the night apologizing for his overenthusiastic mother's constant presence. Becky had told him not to worry. Her own mother was the same way.

The first night she'd spent in Aiba's bed had been an unmitigated disaster. The power had gone out and they'd been forced to eat tomato soup warmed over Aiba's lighter instead of the lavish meal she'd planned to make for him. The cuddling on the couch had been fine, but just as things started getting hot and heavy Aiba remembered that he'd forgotten to buy condoms. When she'd told him in no uncertain terms that NO, she did NOT have condoms in her purse, just what kind of girl did he think she was?, he'd spent a good half hour ransacking his apartment in search of the condoms Nino had given him as a housewarming gift. Becky remembered remarking that , where most people would give a ficus or oven mitts as a housewarming present, only Ninomiya Kazunari would opt to give out cheap and practical – but mostly cheap – condoms.

"Becky-san, are you listening to me?"

Becky blinked and shook herself out of her reverie. "Hmm?"

The other woman sighed. "Becky-san, I need you to pay attention. Whoever took these photos is just looking for money right now. Kitagawa-san has demanded all copies of the photos, including digital copies, be turned over in exchange for payment. That will take care of the problem for the moment, but we have to plan an exit strategy for you."

"A... what? An exit strategy?"

"Yes." Her manager pushed the photos aside and slid a legal pad across the desk to Becky. "Kitagawa-san has significantly more clout in the industry than we do. Aiba's career would survive if your relationship were to be disclosed to the media. But Becky-san, if these photos ever made it to publication, your career would suffer badly. You wouldn't be the sweet girl next door anymore. Do you understand?"

Becky stared at the other woman. "What are you saying?" she rasped.

Her manager nodded to the legal pad. "I need you to sign this missive, which indicates that you will not pursue legal action against the photographer provided he or she turns over all incriminating photos. And then I need you to break up with Aiba-san."

"What!"

The older woman's face softened. "I'm sorry, Becky," she said, her voice genuinely apologetic. "I don't want to do this. I can tell you care about him, and he clearly cares about you. Maybe in a few years, when you've both gotten a little older and your own career is more established, maybe then this won't be such an issue. But right now we have to do what's right for you, and what's right for Sun Music. Do you understand?"

Becky stared at the photos, piled on a corner of the desk like abandoned swatches from a memory quilt.

"Becky?"

"No."

Her manager quirked an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

An indignant flame began to burn in Becky's stomach. She rose to her feet and reached for the photos, stuffing them back into the manilla envelope in which they'd arrived. 

"I won't break up with Aiba-san," she snapped, angrily jamming the envelope into her purse before turning her frosty gaze in her manager's direction. "If my career can't survive my falling in love with someone, then it's not much of a career now is it?"

"Becky, this isn't just about you. Think about Aiba-san."

"He's most of what I _do_ think about, every hour of every day! And it drives me crazy, because I can't _do_ anything about it. I can't hug him when we're in public, or hold his hand on set, or give him a kiss in the parking lot. All these stupid, idiotic rules that celebrities have to abide by that non-celebrities don't." She hugged her purse across her stomach, feeling the corner of the manilla envelope dig into her hip. "I want to be able to kiss my boyfriend without worrying that some... _voyeur_ is going to hold my life hostage with a few stupid photos!"

If she stopped ranting now Becky knew she'd break down in tears, and that made her even more angry. "You want to know what I think?" she plowed on. "I think my fans won't care. I think Aiba-san's fans won't care. I think they'll be happy for us. I think they'll want to hear about the screwy, madcap, sweet and sentimental love story of Becky-chan and Aiba-kun. And if you or management or Kitagawa-san or anyone else have a problem with that, then I'm sorry that you've chosen to lead such sad, lonely lives. But don't expect me to make the same choice!" She pivoted on her heel and stormed to the door.

"Becky-san!"

"What?" she demanded, freezing with her hand on the doorknob and glaring at her manager.

The other woman gave her a kind smile. "I think it's the wrong choice. But good luck."

"The one who needs good luck right now is this photographer," Becky growled. "If I ever find out who it is, he or she is going to find out just how much pain a three inch heel can inflict when wielded by a five foot, 95 pound woman with a grudge."

* * *

**HINT 5: They say if you love someone you should let them go. That's only slightly stupider than _love means never having to say you're sorry_. If your idol runs away, chase them!**

* * *

The door opened under Becky's vigorous knocking. "Whoa!" Sakurai Sho ducked a split second before Becky's knuckles smacked him on the nose. "Becky-san, what's wrong?"

"You know what's wrong," she said, pushing past him into his apartment. "Where's Aiba-chan?"

"Becky..." 

She stabbed a finger into his chest. "Don't mess with me, Sho-san. I've already gone to Ohno-san, Nino-san, and Matsumoto-san. I'm in no mood for your games. Aiba isn't answering his phone and he's not at his apartment. Where. Is. He?" She poked him to emphasize each word.

"Um... Look, Becky-san. You shouldn't be here."

"I'm tired of everyone telling me where I should be, who I should be with, and what I should do!" She dropped her purse and grabbed him by the lapels. "Tell me where he is or I'm going to get _really, REALLY_ mad!"

"I'm here, Bebe."

Becky spun around. Aiba stood framed in the arched doorway to Sho's kitchen. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy and he kept shuffling his feet, clearly anxious to be anywhere but in front of her. 

"Ma-chan..." Becky took a small step toward him, then stopped as he took an answering step back. She heard the apartment door close with a quiet _click_ as Sho left them alone. "Ma-chan, come here."

He shook his head and bit his bottom lip.

"Ma-chan, I said come HERE. Right now."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because..."

"That's not an answer, Ma-chan."

"I want to kiss you," he mumbled. 

A small smile quirked on her lips. "That's okay. I want to kiss you, too."

"We can't. Johnny-san..."

"I don't care what Kitagawa-san said," she snapped. "I'm not breaking up with you."

"Eh?" He raised his head, the fringe of his hair falling across his eyes. "But the pictures-"

"You mean these pictures?" She tugged the envelope out of her purse and threw it down on the floor at his feet. "Who cares?"

"If someone sees them, it could be really bad."

"Why? Ma-chan, I _don't care_." She crossed her arms. "Do you _want_ to break up with me?"

"Eh? No!" He took an anxious step toward her, hand outstretched. "No, I don't! I just want to protect you."

"Protect me! Do I look like I need protection? Am I some delicate little flower that can't protect herself?"

He frowned. "You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do." She threw up her hands in exasperation. "I'm tired of everyone telling me what's best for me. How about _I_ choose what's best for me?" 

The envelope of photos skidded across the floor as she kicked it aside and stepped into Aiba's personal space. "Hug me."

"I've been through scandals before, you know," Aiba mumbled, settling his arms around her waist. "It sucked. I don't want to put you through that."

Becky's hands smoothed up his chest and she draped her arms over his shoulders. "Then let's put a stop to it before it becomes a scandal, ne?"

"Eh? But you said you didn't want to break up."

"I don't. But there are other ways to diffuse a scandal." 

"How?"

She giggled. "You make an honest woman of me, of course."

Aiba's brow furrowed. "Eh? But Becky-chan, you're not a liar."

She rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand as she stepped away. "Never mind, I'll explain on the way."

"On the way where?" 

"You know, when we have children, I _really_ hope they get their brains from me."

"When we – OH MY GOD ARE YOU PREGNANT?"

"I walked right into that one," she sighed.

* * *

**HINT #6: Once you have fully domesticated your idol, put your feet up for a while. You've earned a rest.**

* * *

"I think the next Gorilla Tactics should be with Nino as guest host!" Becky called from the living room as she listened to Aiba clank around in the kitchen. 

"With what baby animal? OW!" 

"Did you hurt yourself?"

"A little."

"Are you bleeding? If you're bleeding make sure to do it over the sink, NOT the rug."

"I knooooow, Bebe."

"Okay." She frowned as she scratched out the song lyrics she'd been brainstorming in her journal. "I thought it would be cute to have Nino as the guest host, and we could bring Yuriko-san in as a secret special guest."

"Ooh! That would be fun!"

"Right?"

"Nino doesn't like it when I play matchmaker for him, though."

"We're not playing matchmaker. We're just helping Cupid along, that's all."

"I don't think Nino appreciates the difference." Aiba strode into the living room bearing a plate of egg salad sandwiches and a tall glass of apple juice. "Here you go. Lunch is served."

"Ooh, yummy." Becky set aside her journal and wiggled into a sitting position, one hand resting on her rounded belly. "Baby-kun is hungry."

"Ne? Baby-kun, are you hungry? Papa made you and kaa-san lunch!" He plunked down on the couch beside her and grinned as she took the plate and balanced it on her belly. "I even cut the crusts off."

"My hero." Becky giggled and took a huge bite of one of the sandwiches. "Mmm... I luff 'ou."

Aiba beamed and laid a hand on her underbelly, rubbing gently. "What would you like for dinner on our anniversary?"

"Surprise me, ne? Just make sure there's no mustard in whatever it is. Baby-kun _really_ doesn't like mustard." She went a little green as she remembered the _last_ time she'd had mustard with her dinner. She'd spent the whole night slumped over the toilet, cursing Aiba's name and his mustard-hating sperm.

"I promise. No mustard." He caught her free hand and kissed her fingertips. "It's been a whole year since we got registered. It feels weird."

"Oh, thanks. I'm happy to hear it's weird being married to me."

"That's not what I meant!"

"I know." Becky smiled and squeezed his hand. "I just like teasing you."

Her eyes drifted up to the framed picture on the mantel above their fireplace. It was a candid picture, taken with a long lens, and showed her and Aiba eating _tagoyaki_ under cherry blossoms in the park; perfect little spheres that Aiba swore tasted better than lopsided ones. Becky's personal theory was that the _tagoyaki_ hadn't tasted so good that day because of their shape, but because she was eating with him. 

"Ne, Bebe-chan?" 

"Hmm?" She let her eyes resettle on his face and gave him a dreamy smile.

"You can't eat the last sandwich till you look at it, ne?" His eyes were twinkling and he was vibrating with anticipation. "Don't just stuff it in your mouth."

"Oi! I do not _stuff_ food in my mouth. I'm pregnant, not a Hoover."

"Shhhh!" Aiba held a finger to his lips and gave her a disapproving look. "Don't say mean things about Roomba-kun's family like that. He might hear you!"

"Sorry, Roomba-kun," Becky apologized.

"It's okay. He didn't hear you that time. Don't forget to look at your sandwich!"

"I'm looking, I'm looking! Keep your pants on." 

The sandwich was the same as all the others on the plate: creamy egg salad on plain white bread, no crusts. "Eh, what's this?" There _was_ something different. A message had been carved into the top slice of bread. 

She picked up the sandwich and read the message.

Then she read it again.

Then she put the sandwich down and started laughing.

Aiba's hopeful expression quickly morphed into hurt. "Eh? What? Why are you laughing?"

"Oh, Ma-chan. I'm not laughing at you. This is just..." She covered her mouth to try and muffle her laughter.

"Bebeeee!"

She shook her head and tried to catch her breath. "You... baka! It's supposed to say, 'I _love_ you,' right?"

"That IS what it says!"

"No. No it's not." She put the sandwich back on the plate and set it aside, then awkwardly wiggled into his arms.

"Ma-chan, you're wonderful," she murmured, tucking her head under his chin. "You're sweet and silly and smarter than people think you are. But you're English spelling leaves a lot to be desired."

"I really thought I got it right this time," Aiba pouted, stroking her hair. "What does it say?"

"Let's put it this way." She tilted her head up and gazed into his eyes. "Ma-chan? I lave you, too."

 

**THE END**


End file.
